


Ramblings Of A Pink-Haired Wannabe

by audioanon



Series: Rhythm [7]
Category: Kill la Kill
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:18:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audioanon/pseuds/audioanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delving into the past of the pink-haired, scrawny know-it-all with a tendency to overthink everything and talk to herself in the third person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ramblings Of A Pink-Haired Wannabe

_Sitting on the couch, she observes the domestic yet unfamiliar scene around her. Noise comes from surrounding speakers, and a British voice discussing cars fills the space. The computer on the coffee table is lit up, despite the sunbathed air. Dank is good word to describe the setting. The air is heavy with smoke, and something else she can’t identify. Humidity? Perhaps. But the air is dry. So that’s out. She ponders this conundrum. Amongst her thoughts, she almost forgets she is not alone. The girl she is with sits on the couch, ample space between them. But, this girl sits in a way that ignores all other stimuli, her body completely turned toward and facing the opposite, cross-legged. The pink-haired girl looks crowded and reserved, legs curled against her chest, arms pulled tight towards her center. This doesn’t seem to bother the other girl. She briefly wonders why she is facing her, looking earnest while she talks. Why would she do something so unnatural, it seems out-of-place in this setting. But, she’s still doing it._

_She doesn’t remember what they were talking about. She was aware that she was stoned, really stoned, and wasn’t thinking very clearly. That’s not what surprised her. What surprised her was when the other girl peeled her arms away from my chest, taking her hands and forcing the pink-haired girl to face her. Her knees clank together awkwardly, and she fumbles along with the coerced movements. Once she is facing her, the other girl presses her left palm against hers, other hand falling to her knee. She is frozen in place as their fingertips touch lightly, then intertwine with each other in a tight hold. The other girl leans her forehead into hers, and she sighs at the gentle touch. She asks the other girl her what she was doing, bewilderment obvious on her face. She still didn’t understand, even though she reached up with her right hand to touch the shaved half of the other girl’s head. Her palm feels the soft stubble while her fingers extend into the other girl’s hair. And she still don’t understand when the other girl moves forward, closing the gap between them, kissing her so lightly it’s almost like it didn’t even happen. But it did. It did happen. She kissed her. And now, it’s her turn to kiss the other girl back._

_In that moment, so many memories, long forgotten, rush back into her conscious thought. Like when she was twelve and stumbled across a video of two girls kissing and she couldn’t stop watch it, even though she knew she should. And how after that she avoided thinking about girls like the plague. She remembers the gay kids she knew in middle school, teasing her and calling her a lesbian, just because it was funny to watch her get worked up. Their words hurt her more than they ever knew. She remembers sitting at a table with her friends during lunch, and they were all talking about how they thought this girl in a magazine was beautiful. And how she tried so, so hard to repress her thoughts, to not speak her mind in an inappropriate way, but she did anyway. And they stared, and she knew she had fucked up. She thought back to her mom, talking and talking and talking about their image, their social standing, and how she had to be the perfect daughter and get married and have plenty of children. And she remember sitting there uncomfortable during these talks, knowing she would never lead the life her mother planned out for her, that she’d never live up to her expectations, that’d she’s not the person her mother thinks she is. But then those thoughts are all gone in an instant, and she clears her head and just kisses her back, more forceful than the other girl probably thought she would, and she knew._

_That was too many years ago, almost another lifetime. Throughout high school, she grew into herself, accepted who she was, and faced more heartbreak than she thought possible. Like when the other girl, the first girl she ever kissed, the first girl she ever fell for, telling her she was just experimenting, and that their time spent together was only a fleeting entertainment. That one really hurt. And she learned to never fall for a straight girl, never throw yourself in too deep, never seem more committed than the other party. Otherwise, you’re fucked. And then there were the people who didn’t accept her for who she was. Being cast out from her family, just for telling the truth, that probably stung the worst of them all. All the fights, all the tears, all the frustration, and her parents still didn’t understand. Rather than deal with the immediate problem, they shipped her off to college, out of state, and they don’t talk. And when they do, it’s strained, her mother always asks if she found a boyfriend yet, and she just has to sigh and say, “no, not yet mom.” Her family just pretends she’s straight, pretends she’s going to take over the family transportation business, pretends she’s still the daughter they thought they had. But she knows where her true passions lie._

_And now, finally, she’s comfortable with herself, and even though she knows there is a line she cannot toe, she still feels free. She found her set of friends, and for the past three years, she’s been relatively happy, moving from noncommittal relationship to noncommittal relationship. She hasn’t fallen for anyone since the first. She knows to be careful. But, of course, like all carefully-laid plan tends to do, this one goes down and out the gutter faster than she thought possible. The girl from her Dada class, just another girl, probably straight, and yet she still couldn’t help but notice the extra glances, the far-off stares. They were familiar. And who wouldn’t excessively think of someone that seemingly devotes so much time to you? So, her thoughts ran away from her, and three month into her obsession she realized that the issue must be resolved soon, otherwise she would drive herself crazy. So she purposely skipped class in order to ask to borrow her notes, and it worked out better than she could have imagined. She knew if she wasn’t careful it could end up terrible for her. But, for once, she found she didn’t care, she found someone, a good someone, a little (ok maybe a lot) damaged, but then again, who isn’t? People all experience the same feelings, just around different events. And she was undeniably drawn to her. Infatuated. And, just maybe—_

“What are you typing?” Ryuko asks, looking back at me over her shoulder.

“Nothing, Slacker, just doing some homework. I doubt you even know what homework is,” I lie smoothly, managing to conceal my panic. I minimize the window, and close my laptop hastily, standing up and turning to her face her, hands on the back of the chair as she presses up against me.

“Hey, I do my fucking homework!” Ryuko says incredulously, rolling her eyes. “And I think you’re lying.” She leans her face down toward mine, hands on my hips. I can’t stand that she’s taller than me.

“Prove it,” I say coyly, and she grins, kissing me. I purposely throw myself into it, and she reciprocates gladly. Thankfully, she dropped the subject pretty quick after that.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy, cool cats. I know, this isn't the update I was planning or anything, but alas, here I am, posting more shit. I'm trying to keep writing through my break, and I started writing about Darrian (the girl from Dada) (fuck me) and it kinda flowed and fit into the story, so I tweaked it. I wanted to dip into Nonon's past a little, and my ramblings fit in with what I was going for. I based some of it off the canon backstory Trigger came out with for the Elite Four, and it fit in with myself and my shit too. So here we are. Together again. Anyways, I also wanted to say how much I appreciate the support and kind words. You guys rock. Hopefully I'll be back on the wagon soon. And as always, I'm down to talk, about anything, so get in touch with me: http://snarfaty.tumblr.com/


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